A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: The Replacement, Jason realizes with more than a little dread, is hot.
1. Chapter 1

**A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque**

**A Word**: A totally cracktastic romp that disregards many things just to be base off of a thought I had. An unrepentantly OOC moment that is detailed below. I'm not sorry. Not one bit.

.

* * *

.

Jason's so fucking distracted he nearly looses his head to a kick before he sweeps Robin's feet out from under him. He follows the guy down to pin him in a move that's all instinctual because Jason's brain officially went offline when he saw the newest Robin in good lighting.

Holy fuck. Did Talia's people smear Vaseline on their cameras or buy them off a shady looking guy on a corner? Those pictures she gave him of his replacement look _nothing_ like the young man pinned beneath him. Teeth grit in a fierce look that just shows off his cheekbones and the fine line of his jaw as Robin _squirms_ under him. It's just, wow, he's about ten times hotter in person.

Robin goes statue still suddenly. Hands freezing in the middle of a strike and his soft looking mouth falling open in shock. Jason takes the opportunity to grab his hands and settle between his legs.

"I just said something out loud didn't I?" Jason asks conversationally because why not? His original plan seems pretty stupid right now, and Jason just isn't feeling it anymore. He's not holding Robin down very well, the guy can flip them and take off at any point he wants. Why not gave a fucking conversation with his hot as hell replacement?

"You know I had this whole plan going to beat you until you screamed," ok a creepy conversation, but the guy beat people up wearing brightly colored tights and a mask. If creepy wasn't his thing before it sure as hell would be by now. Jason tilts his head to the side to get a better look at Robin's nose, which is a fine line that's never been broken before. "But now I really just want to make you scream under me. And naked. Definitely naked."

A pink flush spreads across Robin's cheeks and down the bit of his throat that's exposed. Darkening into a vivid red flush that Jason has a brief fantasy about chasing with his tongue. Especially if Robin was the type to blush all the way down.

The wrench is not a surprise and Jason lets go of Robin's hands to go with it. Rolling as the guy throws his weight against Jason and flips them. Jason keeps his hands up. Palms spread and not trying to grab anything even as he looks up at a still blushing and stuttering Robin. Who's straddling Jason's stomach in a way that has the potential to be very interesting. "You- what are- What?"

Or maybe Jason should be calling him Tim now, because Robins weren't supposed to be stuttering messes like that. Jason grins up at Tim in a way that only seems to make his stuttering worse. "Or you could make _me_ scream. Either way's fine. I'm, heh," Jason snorts because he's never been able to totally remove the horrible voice in his head that makes puns in Dick's voice, "flexible."

Tim goes very still and very quiet. His fists hovering uselessly over Jason as the guy just _stares_. And, yes, very much _yes_. Jason can totally do that. Tim doesn't make a move though. Just continues to stare at him with a look that just might be his equivalent of the blue screen of death. "I just broke your mind, didn't I?"

"Yes," Tim says after several more seconds of stunned silence. Head shaking slowly and his hands coming up to run through his hair. Fingers catching and tugging at the strands, and Jason wonders if Tim likes having his hair pulled for him. He breathes in one sharp breath and lets it out in a measured count. Jason can practically see the Robin coming back in tiny little pieces and being assembled over Tim. "Just, just a little bit," his head snaps down and _this_ is definitely a Robin look. A glare that Jason can feel through the mask. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"Told you that already, baby bird," Jason answers honestly. Slowly letting down his hands to rest on the floor besides his head.

"You said you came here to attack me," Robin states flatly.

"That _was_ the plan," Jason agrees and debates moving his hands down. Around stomach level where Robin is inching back. Putting distance between him and Jason's face and in danger of making things very, heh, -dammit Dick- hard on Jason. "But I changed my mind."

"You decided you'd rather have sex with me," and it's cute how the flush that had been fading comes back with a vengeance as Robin grits out the word sex.

"Yep. You're that hot, baby bird," Jason moves. Reaching down and grabbing Robin by the belt. "And if hearing that's still freaking you out I can guarantee that you don't want to be sitting any lower on my body right now."

Jason's never seen any non-Flash move so fast before. Which could be depressing but Tim's mouth is moving soundlessly and his face is nearly purple. Jason rolls up to his feet and has adjust himself. Just a bit. Tim makes some high pitched noise behind him that Jason takes to be the noise the guy makes when his brain breaks a little more.

"Well, this' been fun and, informative," and maybe a little traumatizing. It's hard to tell. Jason's going to have to do some digging of his own on Tim Drake to even begin to interpret some of the stuff he's seeing on his face. "I'll be seeing you around then."

Tim lets him go, and Jason's already looking forward to their next meeting.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque**

**A Word**: Drabble request from Tumblr.

.

* * *

.

Tim is in the midst of a full schizophrenic break down. There is no other explanation for what's happening.

"What's wrong with him?" Bart asks Kon. They're not even bothering to whisper any more since Cyborg's examination had proven nothing was injured in Robin's brain. Nothing obvious to his equipment at least.

Tim's already made appointments with a few better equipped hospitals in the country. Just to be sure. He'll stop by for the tests on his way back to Gotham in the morning.

"I don't know," Kon replies with a tone of terror in his voice that Tim thinks is a totally appropriate response to Tim's imminent mental break down.

"I'm pretty sure it's not healthy to stay that red for so long," Cassie sounds fascinated and is the only one willing to come close to Tim. Her sharp fingers poke his cheeks and Tim smiles as he turns back to his friends who take three immediate steps backward. "Or smile that big either."

"Nothing is wrong with me," Tim checks his face and drops the wattage of his smile from it's I'm-Timmy-Drake-and-everything's-fine-no-really-Of ficer smile to a more appropriate Robin smile. It doesn't seem to help much. "I'm fine."

No one looks like they believe him and Tim can't say he blames them. Tim is hallucinating getting hit on by a dead former crush after all.

"So," Gar wanders in looking casual and trustworthy. His default face for when he really wants someone to talk to him. "Vic and Kori went through the security feeds."

"And?" Cassie demands when Gar sort of let's that statement hang in the air to stare expectantly at Tim.

"Well they're arguing now and I thought I'd get a second opinion before I choose which one to back up," Gar's still looking expectantly at Tim and it's starting to tilt the precarious mental balance he's managed to obtain. "Kori thinks that was an acceptable opening bid for a courtship, and Vic wants to order you a box of rape whistles. So, which one of them is closest to being right? Because I'm not going to lie. We watched that footage twice and I still can't figure out what happened between you and that guy."

Tim's carefully constructed wall of lies and denial crumbles to dust at Kon's outraged squeak. His face burns with the renewed force of a blush -because it was all _real_- and Tim hears himself mutter, "Oh, god, he thinks I'm hot."

In the stunned silence that follows, Gar's snort sounds like a gunshot. "Alright! Kori it is!" He turns around to march back out of the room, muttering, "Great, this is going to turn into another Deathstroke. I can just feel it."

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque**

**A Word**: This is an angst free series. There are no hurt feels or overly conflicting ideologies here. It's all feel goods and cute freak outs and, of course, sex. Shut up. I _need_ this sometimes.

.

* * *

.

Dick's waiting for Jason when he makes his way to his place. Lounging across Jason's bed in civilians tight enough to show his lack of weapons and get him a dozen offers on the streets. The disgruntled looks on the women down the street start making more sense.

Jason dumps the bag of gear he'd gone to pick up out of sight behind his battered couch before walking up to kick Dick in the back. The clothes combined with the way he doesn't dodge very well ease a little of the tension in Jason. This is Dick coming to see him, not Nightwing. A small difference that could still blow up in his face, but is one he's willing to take. "What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?" Dick rolls until he's sitting up and facing Jason. His stern face taking a hit from the pillow crease line on his right cheek. "That's what I'm here to ask you."

"You know what I want," Jason snorts and nudges Dick aside enough to properly take back his bed. The sheets smell like some godawful cologne. Probably a gift from someone that no one else's been able to tell Dick smells nasty. "Peace on Earth, Joker's head on a pike, little things Dickie. You gonna be more specific than that or are we going to play the guessing game?"

"Let me start by saying that I _hate_ you so very much for making me do this," Dick looms over Jason. Ineffectively, but he tries. "What are your intentions towards our little brother?"

Ah, that. Jason's been wondering when this would happen, and now wonders if the little Robin hadn't told anyone sooner or if Bruce has just been keeping Dick in the dark about it. "My intentions toward," Jason grins up at Dick, sly and just short of leering, "_your_ little brother are completely morally reprehensible, and should not be discussed aloud in polite civilization."

Dick looks torn between the kind of amusement that earns people trips to hell and going-for-a-shotgun level of outrage. "Are you going to sexually molest Robin again?"

"No!" Yes, but- "I didn't _molest_ him."

"Jay, you pinned him to the ground and propositioned him," a smile drags its reluctant way across Dick's lips. "You did molest him."

"No, I pinned him to the ground, noticed how hot he is, and _then_ I propositioned him," Jason points out. "I was looking to break his nose when I started that process and," Jason shrugs, "got distracted."

Dick makes a soft distressed noise as he buries his face in both hands. His shoulders shaking slightly. His voice is strangled even as a few huffs of laughter escape, "Of course. That means the totally inappropriate touching doesn't count."

"Hey, _he's_ the one who did most of the touching. My timing sucks, I get it," Jason points out. He blames Talia for giving him blatantly false information. "But what can you do except change plans on the fly?"

"That's pretty fucked up, Jay," Dick says to his hands. There's an extra note of horror in his voice that lets Jason know the older man is questioning his life choices now. Questioning _everyone's_ life choices.

"That's our life," Jason replies. He lets Dick have a few more minutes of brain gouging or whatever it is he's doing before he rolls close enough to poke obnoxiously into the soft flesh of his stomach. "So, can't help noticing that you're not threatening me or warning me off."

Dick's stubbornly silent for a few more seconds before he goes boneless and collapses backwards. Jason grunts at the extra weight because Dick ass has gotten fatter. "I haven't actually seen him turn that shade of red before, and I've seen him get hit on by old men while wearing a dress."

"Dress?" Jason's immediately jealous. Damn but the baby bird would look smoking all dressed up. "Tell me there's pictures, and _give them to me_."

"Not the point I'm trying to make, Jay," Dick shifts which 'accidentally' introduces his elbow into Jason's kidney. "Tim doesn't get rattled by attention or flattery from people. _Unless_ it's from someone he _wants_ it from. Then he turns into a complete spaz. It's funny to watch."

Jason considers Dick's words for a second. Digesting them and making sure he's got all the meaning out of it he can before slowly saying, "So, that's approval?"

"No, I'm disavowing any and all knowledge of any conversation that relates to my two _little_ brothers being more than perfectly non-incestuous," Dick says with a steady conviction that Jason knows means the man isn't lying. He's totally going to deny and repress. "_That_ was my subtle way of telling you that Tim's got very special and unique esteem problems that will lead to him convincing himself he hallucinated the whole thing if you don't get off your ass and do something soon."

Jason really doesn't need to be told twice.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque**

**A Word**: Request for more. Cole was the elevator operator for the upscale apartments the Drake's moved into fairly early in the Robin series. I used to love that smartass.

.

* * *

.

Tim comes home to find a bouquet of roses waiting for _him_ at the front desk he takes one look at the attached card and has to endure the scathing remarks from Cole about how they match his face in the mercifully short ride up the elevators. Why the part time elevator attendant always needs to stick his nose in Tim's business is a distraction he uses until he's safely in his bedroom thankfully unseen by his dad or Dana. Door locked firmly behind him and music playing just loud enough to cover any noises he might make Tim lets himself look at the card.

His name is written on it in angular writing that Tim's a little ashamed to recognize. There had been no good reason for him to go through a dead boy's school notebook after all. Even if the written rants about how very _wrong_ the teachers were or how annoying the guy in front of him was were funny to read.

Tim stares at the card, smelling the fragrant roses resting on his desk for several minutes before carefully tearing the envelope open. At the edge because Tim already knows he's saving the whole thing.

The card is white. A generic one probably provided by the florist. The same angular writing is on the inside. The card indented slightly under the force of the pen.

_You look gorgeous when you're red, baby bird. How about dinner later?_

There's not much room for anything else with the way Jason writes. Tim's fairly sure there would have been another line about how hot he is if there were. His face burns even hotter and Tim smiles. Thankful no one is around to see how goofy and kinda demented the look is on his face.

Does he want dinner with Jason Todd? The man who kick started Tim's puberty and who was an almost perfect guideline for 'things that Tim would find attractive' in his life? The man who still looked like Tim's dreams given flesh even when he was, apparently, trying to hurt him? Not to mention he's _Jason_.

Tim's only regret is that there is no way for him to say yes immediately. He's pretty sure Dick knows where Jason's at and might be willing to share that information.

He's wondering how much 'brotherly bonding time' he'll be subjected to before he gets that info when something scratches at his window. Tim looks up and something flutters in the frame. There's no sign of anyone as he opens the window, catching a folded square of paper with angular writing on it.

_I'll take that as a yes. See you tonight. Mask and cape highly recommended. I'll pick you up._

Jason is gone so he doesn't see the flush spread down Tim's neck as he closes the window. Drawing the curtains and swallowing because he's going on a _date_.

"Oh no," Tim groans through his stupid excitement. "What do I _do_?"

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Left Turn Somewhere Around Albuquerque  
**

**A Word**: Ibid.

.

* * *

.

Tim doesn't quite lunge for his phone when it goes off, but only because it's already in his hand as he tries to remember another number Dick might have used in the past. Any number at all because every other contact he has for the man goes straight to voicemail and Tim's starting to panic.

Just a little.

"Hello? Dick?" A snort disabuses that thought fast.

"A not so little bird told me you're freaking out about something he's refusing to acknowledge," Steph is highly amused and it shows in her voice. "Also, that if you blow up his voicemail like that again he'll have to take drastic action to pay you back."

Tim wants to growl because _now_ is not the time for Dick to be getting squeamish. Also, he'd like to know exactly _how_ the man knew what Tim was calling about. He wants to growl but he doesn't, because Steph will hang up on him and he really, really needs some advice.

Advice from the Ex might not be the best but desperate times and all that.

"I have a date," Tim's staring at the mirror he'd put on the back of his door after he almost wandered out of his room while still wearing his mask. It'd been a bad night, but the mirror was a necessary last check for him. "Tonight. _What do I do_?"

"First off, you're going to give me _details_," Steph says. Patient in the face of Tim's idiocy. He's well familiar with this voice. "Because I wasn't aware someone wanted your lanky butt enough to club you with the 2x4 needed to get your attention."

"Jason," which is a name that means nothing to Steph. Bruce still not letting the girl in despite her involvement with Babs and the fact she knows all of them by now. "He was the second Robin."

"The _dead_ one?"

"Uh, apparently not," and that's something that Tim's _still_ trying to get the details of out of Bruce. "He hit on me a few weeks ago, and asked me out tonight. On patrol."

Steph whistles. Low and impressed. "A patrol date. That's a serious commitment."

"I _know_," Tim grimaces into the mirror, glad now that Dick fobbed him off onto Steph. She at least understands. "What do I do?"

"Bring breath mints," Steph says immediately. "Wait, he's planning it, right?"

"Yeah," Tim spins toward his desk. Pulling open the drawers. Sure that he had something in there. Maybe some TicTacs. "He said he'd pick me up sometime later."

"Definitely need breath mints, and maybe a wet towelette," Steph sounds distracted as she talks mostly to herself but Tim listens intently. "Best you can do mid patrol to clean up a bit. Might want to bring a bit more cash too, just in case. I don't know is he the dutch type or will he pay for your food?"

"I think he will?" Tim finds a half gone roll of mints and pulls them out. "Oh god, I didn't think about _food_."

"Don't worry about it. Food is his job, you only need to save a mint or two for after. Just in case you decide a kiss goodnight is warranted," Steph's voice goes sly. "You think your zombie'll be worth a little tongue?"

"Maybe," _yes_, but that's something else to worry about. Later though. After the night is over. The clock counts down and Tim feels the urge to set out already even as the sky is still a little light out.

"That's a yes," Steph crows. Her laugh distorting over the line a bit. "Just remember to breath and be your dorky self. Don't panic and eat the mints fast. _Breathe_ Tim."

"I _am_ breathing!" Tim protests but he chuckles a little at the earnestness of Steph's advice. Something easing a little more inside of him. "Hey. Thanks."

"No problem," Steph's voice is warm and affectionate, and all the reasons why she's one of his very good friends still. "Just remember, you got a date with me tomorrow at the diner. And we're going to be going all over how I didn't know about this before tonight."

It's as much a threat as a promise. Tim grins even though he knows he's going to be sweating it out when Steph grills him tomorrow. "Fine."

He's already talking to the dial tone though. Tim hangs up and checks the time. It's still too early for patrol, but he can always suit up and get some files sorted.

.

.


End file.
